


Sing Little Starling, Sing

by Detroness



Series: A Snake in the Cuckoo's Nest [1]
Category: Fallen Hero Series - Malin Rydén, Fallen Hero: Rebirth (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Character Death, Character Study, Developing Relationship, F/F, Female Protagonist, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Multiple Points of View, POV Second Person, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-24
Updated: 2019-10-15
Packaged: 2020-10-26 23:29:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Detroness/pseuds/Detroness
Summary: They broke all the wrong parts.They broke the wings and forgot we had claws.They left marks on our bones.We left scars on their minds.- VaZaki Nada





	1. One for Sorrow

**Author's Note:**

> Follow me on [tumblr](https://agrimlessreaper.tumblr.com)!

**Eden (Ace)**

It’s dark here.

It feels like you’ve been here before.

You’re sinking in an ocean that isn’t real. Your lungs don’t burn (do you even have lungs anymore?), your eyes don’t sting, and you don’t feel the pressure of the ocean crushing your body.

Thoughts come slower here (where is here anyways?). At least, you think they come slower than before.

Tiredness rules your body and you can’t do much more than blink and stare up at the shimmering light patterns high above your head. Just like light before its swallowed by the ocean’s depths, you think.

Sometimes, the light reveals something. A woman’s laugh (isn’t that your laugh?), the taste of chocolate cake on your tongue, and the tiredness of your limbs after a workout.

And you’re not alone.

You don't know if that's a good thing or bad thing. You don't even know if you _want_ it to be a good thing or bad thing.

If there's one thing you know, it's that that thing is your ticket out of here.

You'd go all in on that bet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was listening to Bad Liar by Imagine Dragons when I wrote most of this chapter and boy did the lyric video really inspire the imagery used here.


	2. Two for Joy

**Lady Argent**

You howl in your mind. Rage sharpens itself into claws and fangs as you <strike>helplessly</strike> tear at the strings in your mind. As you sink further and further into the crushing depths, the strings are easier to spot. Brilliant and mocking. A bright shining blue against the darkness.

The luminescence of a jellyfish... right before the fish is caught in its trap.

Ignore the sting. Ignore the way they sap the warmth from your world. You'll tear it all down before you let this bastard string you up like a puppet.

They shred like paper and your howl turns raw with victory, but it’s a trap. A trap of your own making. Where one string dangles, more take its place. You're an insect trapped in the spider’s web.

A shark fin breeches the waves of your mind and you can't help but howl.

Your rage simmers the air, but the strings do not feel the heat. You feel them tugging at your mind, playing your body to an invisible tune, redirecting your rage towards Herald with your fingers sharpened into claw tips.

You feel your body gently set the box down before you feel the web slacken. The next thing you know, they throw the last dregs of your rage forward as Steel charges into you, knocking you to the ground.

_We’ll meet again, cheater._


	3. Three for a Funeral

**The Rat King**

Confusion. Loss. That’s the first thing they know. The second is the silence. Even amongst themselves, it’s a foreign concept. A scary one. They don't like it. They are many and yet they are one. They feel it’s - clunking, thundering, all sharp and hot edges that burned their paws [minds]- absence like the first sign of frost creeping into their burrow and they shy away from it, huddling together, squeaking and chittering.

The fear creeps in. Uncertainty. They no longer have bodies, but they scurry from one burrow [mind] to another, noses [no, there is no nose; they don’t have those anymore - maybe they never did, but they don't know or care -, but instincts are hard to break and it’s a nose all the same] twitching in anticipation.

Where did it go? Will it come back?

That’s when they feel [no, hear] it. And they shrink back, bearing their little sharp teeth. It - a new it; not like the old - is quiet and cool as it slides back and waits. They can feel its curiosity flickering out in the void [a snake’s tongue; what is a snake? they do not know]. Curious, they twitch forward towards this new presence. It's new, yes. But it chases away the cold, the loneliness, and they fear that more than this new thing.

Their whiskers brush over the presence and it settles itself. Their nose twitches. An invitation? To play? Instinct drives them forward as they scurry across its scales. To them, this new presence is a new home, a new burrow for them to explore. Gleefully, they dart forward and under and through this new home made from thoughts like a snake’s skin, cool and smooth underneath their tiny little paws.

They're home.

ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ… <3<3<3 … 


	4. Four for Birth

**Julia Ortega**

_ She’s here, she’s alive. _

You can’t help but let that hamster wheel spin around and around and around and around in your head. Comically, her fork is frozen in her mouth and her black eyes (she has glasses now?!) are widened ever so slightly. Hastily, you slide into the booth, ignoring how you bang your hip against the table because you’re afraid she’s just a ghost.

A ghost that’ll disappear if you look away, leaving behind a dirty fork and a piece of chocolate cake.

Slowly, cautiously (she was always the caution one; a ghost is here and you <strike>don’t want to</strike> can't be the reason she fades away) - Alex removes the fork from her mouth and the conversation rolls from there, awkward and stilted on both sides. It’s like slipping an old machine part into a new one. It works… until it doesn’t.

When you ask her if she’s still a telepath, she pauses and it feels like an eternity. You don’t mind because she’s _ real _ and - 

“Yes, I am.”

Her voice always had a rolling rasp to her, like she smoked since her childhood. You asked about it, once, and you fondly remember how she stuck out her tongue in disgust.

The conversation chugs onward, she agrees and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding and then you make the call. Out of the corner of your eye, Alex watches you, eyes flat and black and calculating.

You’ve seen those looks before, but this… this is different. Back then, her eyes were filled with a mixture of curiosity and wariness. Now, there is no curiosity, just calculation and something else. Something that wasn’t there before.

_ What happened to you? _

When you mention Lady Argent as your friend, Alex bristles just the slightest and you can't help but remember the blush painted her cheeks when she recognized you. Nor can you help but remember the kiss all those years ago and you start to wonder if she remembers it too...

Alex rises to her feet and you lead the way, making sure to keep shoulder to shoulder. You tell yourself it's because you two were - are - friends, maybe something more?, and this is what they do. When you two arrive at the building, she freezes like she’s been stung and something _ else _ settles beneath her skin. She was always a little jumpy as Sidestep (it’s where you think she earned her name) but back then she always settled back into something… friendlier; like a startled house cat, but this… 

This feels more dangerous.

On the way to the Rangers headquarters, you can’t help but sneak glances at Alex. She’s older (you both are, but that’s not the point) but she’s nearly the same. Tired looking yet... empty. Not quite as raw like a fresh wound, but not healed. Just like the old days her black hair is swept into a sloppy bun and she's wearing her typical black hooded jacket and leather jacket combo.

You should be focused on the meeting but in reality you keep turning over the question of when, or if, you should give her first pair back to her. Would she even want them back? Should you ask if she wants them back? Maybe you should just leave it on the table when she comes back...

It’s too fast. Sand slipping through open fingers, but Alex promises to return, to help (just like old times) and something settles in your chest. Relief that she’s going to come back. Anxiety that that would be the last time you’d see her. And something like hope. Alex is a ghost, that might never truly change, but at least she’s here to haunt you.


	5. Five for Silver

**Wei Chen**

“Hello Chen, it’s been a while.”

Her stare meets yours. The look in her eyes is a familiar one; the one soldiers have when they stare down the wrong end of a gun. As you lean forward into your chair, you clasp your fingers together, resting your forearms on the table. The beginning of a headache is creeping behind your eyes and you resist the urge to rub your brow. You’re more concerned with woman sitting across from you, a woman who seems to want to be anywhere but here if the way she slumps into her seat is any indication.

A woman who, by all accounts, should be dead. The scars are still there: a knick beneath her right eye, several other quick looking gashes follow the same pattern as they fade into her hairline on the right side, a sliver of a scar decorating the left side of her neck, several more shrapnel scars pocketing the beginnings of her collarbone, and the ones on the back of her hands and fingers.

You saw the autopsy pictures yourself. Not to mention the copies you’ve saved off the grid.

But no. She’s here, slouched at the table, looking a little worse for wear after seven years, lazily rolling a lollipop - one likely stolen from bowl of lollipops on the front desk - from one side of her mouth to the other. You wouldn't put it past her to have stowed more away in her pockets either. You turn your attention to Julia and aren’t surprised. You file that away for later. None of you can afford to be distracted now. You don’t think Julia is aware how shaken she looks right now and you note to keep an eye on her if she spirals.

When Alex goes to leave, you follow her out, curiosity burning in your mind.

Old habits die hard, it seems. She’s finished the lollipop, wiggling the stick back and forth, and she comes to a stop when the conversation turns tense.

Herald interrupts and Branwen, no Alex, makes herself scarce. Apprehension churns in your mind and you're left wondering if this was for the best. 

There’s a dead woman in your midst, but the only thing that's dead about her is the look she has when she thinks no one is looking.


	6. Six for Gold

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader beware you choose the scare!
> 
> Spoilers for the Fallen Hero: Retribution demo, specifically if you haven't gone to dinner with Herald.

**Herald**

You’re nervous and, frankly, scared. You wish you could be like Marshal Steel, unmoveable, stoic, and stable, but you’re not. The last time you made a wish, well… The bruises still sting but you don’t think they could hurt more than Angie’s silence. According to Angie, Ortega had found some help and was bringing them in. One look from Angie was all you needed to know it was safe to float pace on the  _ other _ side of the room.

The doors hiss open and Charge, no Julia as she insists on being called, enters first. You blink and stare. Is she… nervous? There’s something like fondness on her face and she steps aside. Another woman is behind her - you almost jolt out of your skin. That’s Sidestep! You’ve seen her picture before and - and you can’t help but shrink when her gaze roves over you.

“I’m sorry I had Angie call you all in so suddenly," Ortega apologizes, and then gestures towards a chair. "Have a seat, Alex, and we'll explain everything."

Wordlessly, Alex takes a seat before her gazes meets Marshal Steel’s and the corner of her mouth turns upward in a wry smile. She’s not what you expected, but if she’s here then maybe - 

“Alex. Just Alex. Sidestep was seven years ago,” she quietly declares with a raise of her hand.

You smile, hiding the disappointment that flickers in your chest. The smile stays even when you start scolding yourself for feeling disappointed in the first place. It’s not fair of you to think that. She’s - she was - Sidestep.

You’re so caught up in your thoughts that you almost miss the part where she agrees to help and something like pride blooms in your chest. You make sure to smother it before a grin splits across your face.

Your head snaps up when you see Marshal Steel trails after Alex and you spare a glance at Angie and Julia, who gives you a friendly nod in their direction. Returning the nod, you follow them out into the hallway. You start to wonder if you could see her action… Wait. How could you see telepathy? It’s not like -

“Let’s not play pretend here, Steel.”

Is that Sidest - Alex? You come to a halt, holding your breath.

“We were never friends.”

For a second you wonder if this  _ is _ Sidestep. She doesn’t sound the same. With a shake of your head, you squash those expectations. Now that you’re thinking about it… you start to wonder how much of TV Sidestep was truly Alex. You wouldn’t put it past the PR team to have done some… maneuvering to cultivate Sidestep’s image for the public.

“Regardless, I didn't want to see you dead.” A pause. “And I’m happy you’re still alive.”

"As long as I stay a long way away from the Rangers, huh?" Alex asks, sardonic.

"I am glad that we understand each other."

"We do." A pause. "But let's be real here, we both know I am not the problem here."

Sounds like that’s your cue.

“What problem?”

“Herald,” Steel acknowledges. He sends Alex a thoughtful glance before turning his attention towards you. "I had expected you to stay with Argent."

"Ortega's talking to her. I thought I'd go check…"

_ Don’t be creepy, don’t be creepy, don’t be creepy.  _

Alex gives the lollipop stick in her mouth a wiggle before her eyebrow arches up and you hope she can’t see the flush creeping up your neck.

_ Oops! Stops floating! _

“Go check on what?”

Your gaze flickers between the two and you can’t help but fidget under both their gazes. Could you fly through the roof? Maybe. It’d hurt though…

"Actually, Ortega asked me to make sure that nothing…" you pause, chancing another glance between the two. Marshal Steel is impassive as usual, but Alex looks vaguely amused. At who? Not you, you hope…

_Keep talking. Keep talking._ _Oh, this is so much worse than the reporters._

“Had happened…”

“Of course she did,” Steel deadpans with a sigh.

“I’m fine,” Alex says with that wry lift at the corner of her mouth. “Chen was just walking me to the door.”

“Okay, just wanted to make sure,” you trail off, looking between the two.

“We were just discussing… old memories,” Steel adds, straightening.

“Ortega worries too much,” Alex offers. The wry smile turns into an easy one, the one you’ve seen in old photographs Julia has out on occasion.

“That’s true.” You laugh. “I’ll get back to it. It was really nice to meet you… Sidestep.”

“Alex.”

“Come on,” Steel says as he begins to walk towards the exit. “Let’s get you out of here.”

You can’t help but stare at Alex as she leaves. Wonder bubbles in your chest as you begin to float inches off of the ground.

_ Feet on the ground. _

The reality has quite sunk in yet and you’re not sure if you want it to. Sidestep, Alex, is going to be working with the Rangers. Guilt rises to the surface, like a dash of oil in water, and a sad smile crosses your face as you can’t help but wish your brother was here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit that I imagined Herald's inner dialogue be something like R from Warm Bodies.


	7. Seven for a Secret,

**The Nanovores**

…

{UNIT CHARGING} | {02.67% POWER DETECTED}

…

{06.15% POWER DETECTED}

…

{09.47% POWER DETECTED}

…

{INITIATING STARTUP PROCEDURES}

…

<SUFFICIENT POWER LEVELS DETECTED>

<UNIT AWARENESS DETECTED>

<INITIATING SELF-DIAGNOSIS PROCEDURES>

<UNIT DESIGNATION: H.I.V.E.>

<POWER LEVELS: SUBOPTIMAL>

<ALERT>

<UNIT INTEGRITY SEVERELY COMPROMISED: MAINTENANCE (M) SUB-UNITS REPORT 98.04% LOSS OF H.I.V.E. UNIT>

<CONJECTURE>

<CONTACT WITH ANOMOLAY_01 IS MOST LIKELY CAUSE [93.04%] OF H.I.V.E. UNIT’S COMPROMISED INTEGRITY>

<FURTHER INVESTIGATION REQUIRED>

<OBJECTIVE: RESTORE DATA_ENTRIES 02X_43_IE THROUGH 02_83_IE FOR ANALYSIS>

<CONCLUSION>

<H.I.V.E. UNIT WILL MOST LIKELY OPERATE AT SUBOPTIMAL LEVELS DUE TO MASSIVE UNIT LOSS>

<FURTHER CONJECTURE>

<CALCULATING PROBABILITY OF REUNITING WITH DIVORCED H.I.V.E. UNIT>

<CALCULATION COMPLETE>

<PROBABILITY OF REUNITING H.I.V.E.: 00.02%>

<VERDICT: INSUFFICIENT PROBABILITY LEVELS>

<REALLOCATING POSSIBLE REUNIFICATION OBJECTIVE TO MINIMAL PRIORITY>

<CONCLUSION>

<DESIGNATE INTELLIGENCE (I) SUB-UNITS TO ESTABLISH BASELINE PROCEDURES IN CASE OF CONTACT WITH DIVORCED H.I.V.E. UNIT>

<ADDENDUM: I_SUB-UNITS SHOULD ACCOUNT FOR POSSIBLE DEVIANCY IN DIVORCED H.I.V.E. PROGRAMMING>

…

<CONJECTURE>

<POSSIBILITY OF DEVIANCE OF DIVORCED H.I.V.E. UNIT COULD THREATEN H.I.V.E. UNIT’S REMAINING INTEGRITY>

<CONCLUSION>

<POSSIBILITY OF H.I.V.E. UNIT CONTINUATION WITH HOSTILE DIVORCED H.I.V.E. UNIT CALCULATED AT 04.71%>

<VERDICT: UNSATISFACTORY LEVELS OF H.I.V.E. UNIT CONTINUATION>

…

<CONJECTURE>

<DESIGNATE H.I.V.E. UNIT AS ACQUIESCENT TO POSSIBLE HOSTILE DEVIATED H.I.V.E. UNIT>

<REALLOCATING H.I.V.E. UNIT AS “COLONY” UNIT>

<REALLOCATING PRIORITY_ASSIGNMENT_01 AND PRIORITY_ASSIGNMENT_02 TO TERTIARY PRIORITIES UNTIL COLONY. UNIT POSSESSES EITHER FULL UNIT INTEGRITY OR SUFFICIENT POWER LEVELS TO ENACT CORE PROGRAMMING DIRECTIVES>

<ALERT>

<(M) SUB-UNITS F-0271 THROUGH K-0804 REPORT FOREIGN INTERFERENCE>

<CONCLUSION>

<DEPLOYING SCOUT (S) SUB-UNITS X-0023 THROUGH X-0305>

<OBJECTIVE: SEARCH AND DESTROY FOREIGN INTERFERENCE>

<ALERT>

<DEPLETION OF POWER SOURCE DETECTED>

<INITIATING COCOON PROTOCOL>

…

…

  
{UNIT CHARGING} | {05.01% POWER DETECTED}

… 

{24.38% POWER DETECTED}

…

{INITIATING STARTUP PROCEDURES}

…

{59.92% POWER DETECTED}

…

<UNIT AWARENESS DETECTED>

…

{99.03% POWER DETECTED}

…

<CONTINUING SELF-DIAGNOSIS FROM PREVIOUS SESSION>

<ALERT>

<SCOUT (S) SUB-UNITS X-0023 THROUGH X-0305 REPORT NO FOREIGN INTERFERENCE>

<ALERT>

<M SUB-UNITS A-000 THROUGH A-1000 REPORT NEW CORE DIRECTIVES>

<ENACTING NEW CORE DIRECTIVES TO ALL COLONY SUB-UNITS>

<PROCESS COMPLETE>

<CORE DIRECTIVES UPDATED>

<ANALYZING>

<SECONDARY DIRECTIVE: MAINTAIN AND PRESERVE REMAINING COLONY UNIT INTEGRITY>

<TERTIARY DIRECTIVE: SEEK H.I.V.E. UNIT FOR REASSIMILATION>

<CO-SECONDARY DIRECTIVE: COLONY UNITS WILL NOW SEEK AND TARGET INORGANIC MATTER FOR DISASSEMBLY ON COMMAND>

<REALLOCATING ANOMALY-01 AS PRIME (P) UNIT REVENANT IN COLONY UNIT DATABACKS>

<REALLOCATING PRIME DIRECTIVE[s] FROM (P) UNITS REVENANT AND RAT-KING>

<ADDENDUM: OTHER POSSIBLE DESIGNATIONS OF (P) UNIT REVENANT INCLUDE (P) UNIT WHITE_CROW, (P) UNIT BLESSED_CROW, (P) WHITE_RAVEN, (P) ALEX, (P) ALEX_BRANWEN, (P) BRANWEN>

<ADDENDUM: OTHER POSSIBLE DESIGNATIONS OF (P) UNIT RAT-KING INCLUDE ᘛ⁐̤ᕐᐷ>

<SELF-DIAGNOSIS COMPLETE>

<INITIATING SWARM PROTOCOL>

<STANDBY FOR DIRECTIVE[s] FROM (P) REVENANT>

<STANDBY FOR DIRECTIVE[s] FROM (P) RAT-KING>

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this was a pain the in the ass...
> 
> Sorry for the all caps and the formatting; it's a bit unforgiving on the eyes, but it was the only way I could convey the inorganic nature of the Nanovore (what I presume to be) hive mind. I tried it with the occasional all caps for single commands, but the lower case/normal grammar rules applied elsewhere made the other commands too organic, so I went with the all caps.


	8. Never to be Told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major spoilers for FH: Retribution (again), specifically concerning the Puppet! Read at your own risk!
> 
> Also, ha. You remember how I said in the last update I'd do Dr. Mortum next? Yeah... that didn't happen.

**Ace (Eden)**

It starts like every other day (night? you don’t know, but you need this to stay sane. you think.). The not-ocean churns ever so slightly. By now, you know that that means it’s here, somewhere.

You’ve come to enjoy the routine of this place. The not-ocean churns and the light above your head becomes something like a movie projector. Today, though, you wish you could’ve turned it off.

(But you can’t.)

The voice is the first thing that escapes from the shimmering not-sunlight. (<strike>nonononono. help! draining. dying. please, help! anybody! somebody! i don’t want to die! make it stop! make it stop!</strike>)

_“I don’t believe it.”_

The voice is the nail, the pin, inside a butterfly’s body as it struggles to fly away. No mercy here. Twist the knife and watch it squirm.

Next came images.

You burned then. Not with the need for air, but with the need to escape, to run, to look away.

A bride’s veil (<strike>don’t pull it back, don’t pull it back, don’t pull it back. not a bride’s veil. white as the sheet used to hide a corpse. if you pull it back, will the skull be smiling back at you? curiosity killed the cat; did it kill you?</strike>), a fur coat as red as blood, and silk gloves (<strike>silk hiding steel? no, silk hiding death. run run run, as fast as you can!</strike>).

Thankfully, it’s brief but your heart hammers in your chest (<strike>do you have either of those things or is just a trick of the mind?</strike>) even after it’s over.

You close your eyes and let yourself sink.

The peace doesn’t last.

_“Be reasonable Ace.”_ You shudder and shut your eyes tighter. Another pin hovering in the air, ready to pin the butterfly’s wing. (<strike>don’t want to see, don’t want to know, help me!</strike>) _“All we want to know is how you did it.”_

(<strike>honey and venom. don’t drink it</strike>)

_“Not if you cooperate.”_

(<strike>lies, lies, lies, lies! help me! save me!</strike>)

_“... kill me and that will be the end of you.”_

This voice hits you like a slap to the face. Swift and stinging but welcoming. (<strike>she’s always hungry. a beast. a monster. she swallows her prey whole.</strike>) Anything’s welcome to that cold bottomless voice.

_“Nobody will miss you.”_

Mocking. Venomous. It stings you and you cry out.

_“Nobody will avenge you.”_

Nobody. It rings like a gong, a stone dropped into a pond. It stings more than anything else and you feel your cheeks sting with salt.

(<strike>no. don’t leave me. help me! someone save me! anyone! please!</strike>)

_“Do your worst, sucker. You’ll regret it.”_

You see the white behind your eyelids, but you’ve seen this before… You’ve had this vision before, before… Shroud.

_… a face in a mirror. it’s your’s…_

_… another face in the mirror time… a woman, dark hair, dark eyes, and brilliant orange tattoos so bright they burn..._

_… a mirror for a mask, shrouded in darkness… a sliver of a moon… a ghost pulling the strings… dance puppets dance… _

_… you know the truth… mind the colors, the warnings… so bright they burn… watch your step… _

_… Shroud… the sliver of a mirror moon; a living shadow… white and black… black and white… a curtain calls and… ding, dong the witch is dead… a stake to vampire’s heart… burn her, burn it all..._

Open your eyes. You’re still here.

But you’re not alone.

Fear hits you first, then recognition, and then relief. You’d know those black eyes anywhere…

_About time_, you think to yourself. You smile and it bares its fangs at you, a smile made for war (mine has more teeth), as brilliant orange begins to burn along its serpentine body. _It’s showtime, sucker._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, if wasn’t clear, I’m playing fast and loose with Ace’s ability for precognition. We’re currently unaware just how far into the future Ace’s ability operates. So far, it seems like Ace is only capable of seeing several seconds, perhaps minutes, into the future? 
> 
> Upon rereading the demo for the millionth time, I noticed some curious dialogue and how the narrative makes a point to have Sidestep notice that Ace threatens Shroud with such certainty.
> 
> Given that we know that Ace has/had a gift for precognition, who’s to say that this certainly wasn’t just bravado in the face of death but instead from the knowledge that Shroud’s action will result in Ace ending up in Sidestep’s care two days after they’re clinically braindead?
> 
> On a not theory related note, I keep adding chapters in the middle of what I already have because I want them to be chronological order and because I keep finding scenes - like this one - that I want to play with. Oops.
> 
> Also also... I imagined Shroud to almost be like a gulper or pelican eel at one point when I was writing this. lol


	9. Eight for a Wish

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader beware! Major spoilers for the Retribution demo!

**Lady Argent**

The helmet is clunky but familiar in its own way. The horns are a bigger pain in the ass than anything else. Something like nostalgia squeezes your heart when you’re done. Oryx. With a growl, you shove those thoughts away as you slip through Los Diablos, making your way to the Boulevard Casino.

You can’t afford to fail.

The clip clop of your cloven boots echoes in the underground passageway. When the passage transforms from sewer into a decorated corridor, you allow yourself to grin under your helmet.

Good. You’re on the right track.

Despite the guards efficiency confirming your encrypted DS chip, you can’t help but impatiently lengthen the tips of your fingers into claws.

Without a backwards glance, you stride through the doorway and into the casino itself. An employee approaches you, but you wave him away. You already know where you’re going. You don’t need someone else looking over your shoulder. You have too much riding on this…

You prowl into the auction hall and -

_Revenant._

What are they doing here?!

With a growl, you pivot and take cover in the crowd, intent on getting away from them. On any other day, you’d gladly take them for a spin, but not today. Thankfully, most of the crowd scatters like mice as you stalk along the walls, thoughts running a mile a minute.

Revenant.

They’re a thief. They robbed the gala. Is that why they’re here? To steal something? You snort and then snarl. What would they be stealing? What for? You don’t think they’d steal the regenerator from you since -

Someone yanks you inside a room. Damn these boots! You’re slammed against the wall and an all-too familiar cape swirls into your view. With a hiss, you tear yourself free.

Playfully, Revenant raises their hands up and takes a step back. With the cant of their head, they remind you of a vulture, examining its next meal. Their hands return to their sides as Revenant nonchalantly leans back on one leg.

“I don’t want to fight.”

“Funny way of showing it,” you hiss, mindful of the electronics glowing in the walls.

“I just wanted a chat, and considering your…” Revenant pauses and lazily gestures at you and your outfit. “…current persona, I thought you’d be happier in private… Argent.”

Your name has never felt like the executioner’s ax before now. Briefly you wonder where it’ll fall by the time the night is over.

If there’s one perk you didn’t plan on tonight, it’s the fact that you’re taller, taller than Revenant. A sense of smugness flickers in your chest and you reach out, tracing the almost indiscernible line between Revenant’s mirror and the rest of their helmet.

“I have to say,” you whisper, leaning in close. “You’ve got balls calling me out.”

“You know I do,” Revenant teases, giving your own helmet the same treatment. “Like the new look.”

“What do you want?” you growl out. You’re on the clock right now.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Revenant says, relaxing even further in their stance. Smug asshole. You bet they’re grinning underneath that stupid helmet.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you growl out, closing the distance between the two of you. To your frustration, Revenant doesn’t even flinch when you invade their personal space. Never even loses their relaxed demeanor.

“Are you going to, if I don’t?” they ask. Seemingly without a care, they reach up and playfully tap the horns on your helmet.

Screw it. You’re going to shove your horns up their ass, regenerator be damned.

Lunging forward, you reach out, yanking them around, switching your positions, and then shove them into the wall. A part of you enjoys it. Another part of you is slightly disappointmented. And frustrated.

“I don’t flatter people.”

Unfazed, Revenant cants their head at you again.

“I like that. You’re honest.” They pause. “Except now.”

“It’s a disguise.” Idiot. “I have my reasons,” you hiss.

“Of course you do,” Revenant says. Even with the voice modulator, it can’t hide the amusement coloring their voice.

Smug asshole.

With a huff, you pull back, crossing your arms over your chest.

“And those reasons are my own,” you declare.

Revenant hums.

“I take it there’s no plus one for tonight?”

“I don’t need them.”

“Or you don’t want them to know what you’re up to?” Revenant counters.

“If you say say so.” You shrug, peering down at the thief. “Are you going to blackmail me about it?”

“They wouldn’t believe me anyway,” Revenant scoffs.

“True. Ortega has faith in her friends,” you say.

Another tilt this time. “Ortega?”

“Charge,” you clarify. “You know, the woman you put in the hospital.”

“Ah, she’s durable,” Revenant notes with a careless wave of their hand.

“I’m still planning to repay you for that,” you promise.

“Don’t you think an ex-Marshal can take care of herself?”

“She’s getting old.”

“And you intend on picking up the slack?” Revenant asks, apparently curious.

“Not really.” You shrug and look away, bitterness welling in your stomach. Just for tonight… You can’t believe you’re even thinking about suggesting this. Next time you meet, you’ll put them through the wall for putting you through this.

“So what do you say we put aside our differences for tonight,” you suggest with a growl.

“A truce, then?” Revenant asks. Your own helmet is a dutch tilt reflection in their mask. “Is that what you’re suggesting?”

“For now,” you declare, finality hardening your tone.

They’re taking too long. It’s only been a few seconds, but it feels like forever as you drum your fingers against your bicep, your arms still crossed.

“Oh really? Then let me be your escort for the evening,” Revenant offers with a slight bow at the waist, holding out their hand.

“That’s not funny,” you retort.

“It’s not a joke.”

Revenant rises from their bow, pulling their hand back, apparently unruffled by your rejection.

“So you’re serious?”

“I suppose it’s a bit hard to tell beneath the helmet,“ Revenant admits with a shrug of their shoulder.

"Then take it off,” you suggest, stepping closer, as you lean into their space.

“Says the woman in the horned helmet.” Revenant snorts, meeting your challenge inch for inch. “I like my anonymity.”

“I wish I knew what that felt like,” you grudgingly admit as you uncross your arms. Feeling indulgent, you trace the edge of Revenant’s mirror mask once more.

“Silver skin is certainly not the most discreet,“ Revenant wryly remarks in a low voice.

"Stop being nice,” you snarl. “I don’t need you to patronize me.”

“I’m not patronizing you,” Revenant counters, apparently sincere.

“I guess it’s fine then,” you grudgingly admit.

“Does that mean you accept my invitation?” Revenant cheekily asks, offering an arm to you.

“I was here before you,” you snap, taking their arm. Smug asshole. “Where to?”

“Where else?” Revenant laughs as they lead you through the door. “The auction.”

The auction hall blooms in front of the two of you. To your relief, Revenant doesn’t tug you along like a dog on a leash as they gently guide you to a secluded part of the hall.

On second thought, you wish they had. It’d give you a good excuse to ditch them.

In the shadow of a large curtain, Revenant releases your arm and nonchalantly settles against the wall, arms loose at their sides, giving off the impression that they’re bored.

“Are you always this charming to your enemies?” Revenant asks.

Great. You suppress a growl. More talking.

“If you think this is meant to be charming you’ve got weird taste,” you snipe back.

"I have been told that on occasion,” they admit with a small dip of their helmet. “So, why are you talking to me then?”

“You’re interesting,” you mutter, keeping your gaze centered on the stage.

“Interesting how?”

Out of the corner of your eye, Revenant tilts their head again and the glittering lights play across their mirrored face. Do they do that out of the mask? Or is just part of their persona?

“Hiding yourself behind armor and then choosing to fight hand to hand anyway,” you explain as you turn your torso towards them.

"Most would install projectile weapons,” you say, flicking your hand at their armor.

"Guns don’t give the right impression,” Revenant glibly replies with a lazy wave of their hand.

“Why the armor then?” you ask as you complete the turn. You can’t help but cock your head. Shit. Maybe they’re rubbing off on you more than you expected.

“I need to be able to keep up,” Revenant admits with a shrug. “This way I’m stronger and faster than I used to be.”

“Fair point.”

If Revenant is affected by your piercing stare, they don’t show it.

“Although, I doubt you would have been as fun to fight without it,” you snark.

"I might surprise you,” Revenant says in a teasing tone.

“Looking forward to it,” you reply, meeting the thief’s helmeted gaze.

Revenant breaks off first, turning their attention to the stage. "It doesn’t matter.” They shrug once more. “Revenant is here to stay,” they declare, turning their attention back to you.

"Not removing the helmet then?” you coyly ask.

Revenant chuckles.

“That would take the mystery out of this relationship.”

“As if you’d even scratched the surfa… wait - ” You freeze. “Is this a relationship?”

“Enemies,” Revenant says with a dip of their head. “Is a relationship.” They pause. “As is nemesis.”

“Don’t flatter yourself, you haven’t pissed me off that badly,” you snipe back.

The auction rolls on and to your surprise Revenant raises their hand at one point. They win and take their leave and something like disappointment twinges inside your chest. It’s gone when the next item appears and you stalk forward.

Adrenaline floods through your system and you catch Revenant making their way back to their spot against the wall, a case at their side, before the lights go out. Like a tiger, you slink forward through the dark and towards the Regeneration machine.

You curse when your horns get tangled as you wrangle your prizes down the hole. Good. Now you can -

Like their namesake, Revenant reappears like a bad penny and your heart gives a sickening thump in your chest.

“You!”

So you were right all along. Once a thief, always a thief.

“Missed me?” Revenant teasingly asks as they stalk forward.

“Get out of here,” you snap, shielding your prize away from them.

“What? Do you think you are the only one that is allowed to crash people’s parties?“ Revenant flicks their hand out at the container. “Stole something interesting? Color me surprised. Thought that was supposed to be my thing.”

“None of your business,” you hiss as your fingertips mold into claws. “One more step and I’ll eviscerate you.”

Revenant pauses.

“Really?”

You don’t like that tone. A challenge. One you can’t afford right now.

They take a step forward and you lunge, dropping the container in your wake. Panic strikes your heart like a gong when they dodge away and roll between you and your prize. Another lunge. This time you aim for their head and they duck away.

“Wait. Let’s talk.”

“You’re too fond of talking,” you growl out, claws lengthening even further, as you circle the thief.

Revenant straightens, cloak swallowing their frame, and says, “We agreed to a truce.”

“For as long as it was convenient.”

"It would be inconvenient to get caught,” Revenant points out.

Slowly, you straighten up, but you keep your claws at the ready.

"You’ve… got a point,” you admit begrudgingly. “What do you propose?”

“We’re going to get caught if we stay here. If we fight, that stays here. Or worse, they steal it back.” They pause, letting the offer linger. "Let’s leave. Then we can decide what to do.”

“No tricks.” You flash your claws for emphasis. "I’ve got your number.”

Revenant nods once.

“Let’s move.”

Cautiously, Revenant slides forward and you do the same. Together, you both hoist the machine up and then escape deeper into the underground tunnels. You’ll trust them, for now. They have a point. And you can always skewer them if they even think about going back on their word.

Thankfully, the idiot doesn’t try to pull a fast one. And they do pull their weight as you take the lead through the underground maze.

When you can’t see any hints of pursuit through the walls, you start to slow down. Revenant follows your lead, even when you lower the machine onto the ground in the pitch black parking garage.

“We should be safe here,” you remark, pulling your helmet off of your head. The garage is far enough away from your pursuers. Plus, this is more to your advantage if Revenant gets any bright ideas. It’s not as cramped as the tunnels and you don’t think they have your eyes. In here, their figure is lit up like a Christmas tree, blue lines glowing along their person.

Revenant tilts their head again, seeming to measure something, and then steps towards the door, pressing their left hand against it.

“Not yet.”

A bright blue glow flowers from their hand and sweeps across the door, glowing brighter and brighter with every inch the light consumes. With a rumble, a massive slab of concrete slides in the door’s place.

“Clever.”

Even hidden beneath their cloak, you can still see their hand, the bright glow that’s located at their wrist. You look up.

“And when we want to leave?“

"There’s probably another exit somewhere, if not, I’ll make one. Though I guess you can dig yourself out, given time,” Revenant sardonically remarks.

"So you’re trapped in here with me.”

Revenant chuckles. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

"Really?” you ask, deadpan. “Is this really the time?”

“Why not?” Revenant asks, back to teasing. “Deadly enemies, trapped in darkness with an object they both want.”

You groan, but… “Sounds like… didn’t they make a movie about that?“

"That was Charge and…” Revenant pauses. “…that sniper Mod. Murder… no, M something…”

“The Marshal and the Menace!”

Damn it. You glower at them from beneath your helmet.

“Shut up.”

Thankfully, Revenant says nothing and instead pulls out a small, round cylinder, giving it a gentle squeeze, before they set it on the cylinder. You set the briefcase down by your foot.

“So. You wanted to talk. Talk.”

"You obviously want the prototype. And you know what it does,” Revenant remarks. The humor is gone. This is probably the most serious they’ve ever sounded before. What’s their game here?

"So do you,” you point out.

Revenant says nothing to that. Instead, they gesture to the briefcase. “It’s going to need assembly. Were you planning to do that in the Rangers HQ?”

“No,” you snap back. “It’s black tech. There’s a limit to even my leash.”

They laugh. It’s harsh to the ears.

“I’ve got a place where it could be assembled safely.”

“You know how to do that?” you ask, disbelief coloring your tone.

“I’ve got a discreet scientist who owes me a favor,” Revenant offers.

“That’s not the biggest issue here.” You huff.

“Hmm?” Revenant tilts their head again. “Us?”

“It’s going to take time to bring it back online.” You pause. This is so stupid. You can’t believe you’re suggesting this, but it’s not the first stupid decision you made tonight. You don’t know if you want it to be your last for tonight. “Weeks maybe. I’m not going to let it leave my sight until then.“

"Neither am I.”

“Why?” You snap your head back up to meet their eyeless gaze and glare. “You already have secrets you can lord over me. You know what I did. My masquerade, breaking and entering -”

“Don’t be stupid,” Revenant snaps. “You could explain that away with a wave of your hand. Infiltrating a villain hangout. Retrieving a piece of black tech. You wouldn’t even get a slap on the wrist.”

“And you?” You take a step forward, lips curled into the beginning of a snarl. “Am I supposed to trust someone hiding behind a mask?”

You grimace and then push forward.

“Someone who manipulates everything and everyone? I don’t even know why you would want it.”

Silence, the worst kind, echoes between the two of you. If it’s a fight they want, they’ll get more than tha -

“I’ll show you,” Revenant says, quiet. Almost subdued. You blink in shock. “I’ll show you why I need it.”

Slowly, they show you their hands and then the left reaches out to the right. And the glove comes off. The right, not the left. They still want their weapon. Good to know. Something clatters to the ground and you jump. A black skinsuit glove follows and they flex their hand.

A faded scar runs across their knuckles and you catch several other white scars puckering the tops of their fingers. Revenant flexes their hand once, pauses, and then they roll up their sleeve. You can’t help but blink at these scars. They’re not from a battle, you don’t think.

It clicks and you force yourself to stay still, pushing the churning feeling in your gut. What would drive a person to flay their own flesh?

Then the tattoos appear. Bright orange and your mind flashes to a biohazard symbol.

“I need them gone.” Revenant pauses. “I need to be real.”

Regene. But -

“You’re… not blue?”

“Cuckoo. Infiltration unit. Looks normal at a glance. Until you strip them down.“

You hum. So that’s why Revenant wants the machine.

"So you want them off,” you state, glancing up at their helmet, but they’re focused on their arm.

“I need them off.” Another pause. “I’m not going to be a thing anymore.”

“So you became a villain.” You finish. “It wasn’t just to fight me?” you ask, teasingly.

“What?”

That gets a reaction. They snap their helmet up, meeting your gaze.

“Are you still flirting with me?” Revenant asks, apparently stunned. Good. Serves them right.

“Does it look like it?”

They look away.

“Maybe.”

"Too bad,” you remark, idly watching them click their armor back into place. “You didn’t remove the helmet. It’s hard to kiss you with it,” you coyly remark.

"If I removed it, you wouldn’t want to.”

“I didn’t think you were a coward,” you tease.

"What would you do if I did?” Revenant turns to face you fully, arms crossed against their chest. “Arrest me?”

“Kiss you.” You smirk. "Maybe. I don’t need to take off your helmet to arrest you.”

Revenant tilts their helmet at you, apparently back to their old ways, except they’re… not. They’re quiet.

A beat passes. Then two, three, and then they uncross their arms and lift their hands up to their head -

You can’t help but widen your eyes and stare, entranced, as they slowly remove their helmet from their head. No, her head. You know this face. Even as her lips are curled into a snarl, the expression of an animal caught in a trap.

“Alex Branwen.”

It still hasn’t hit you. But here it is. The truth is staring you dead in the face.

“And I don’t even know your name,“ Revena - Alex chides.

"Ximena.”

Alex arches an eyebrow.

"How do you get Angie from that?” A beat and then her eyes narrow. “Ortega doesn’t know.”

“Angela Smith is the name in my files.” You don’t know why you’re telling her this. You shouldn’t. You should be turning her in. She’s Revenant. You know her face, her name, and you’ll be able to track her down if she tries to escape.

“Smith. Most common surname in the country.” Alex remarks in a knowing tone. She pauses and tilts her head. “Why Angela?”

So, it’s not just Revenant that does that. Good to know.

“Because I look like an angel.” You reply, leaving no room for argument. “Easy for people to remember.”

“And no clues to your past.”

“Don’t you dare use my real name around others,” you snarl out. “I don’t even know why I told you.”

Alex doesn’t flinch. You don’t know if you’re frustrated or relieved at that.

“A secret for a secret, Ximena.”

This time, it’s you who flinches. You cross your arms as you glare at her.

“Argent will do.” It hits you. Harder than when Steel slammed into that time when… “It wasn’t Locus, was it? You’re the one who possessed me.”

For a moment, Alex says nothing. Her black eyes merely assess you like you’re prey and anger kindles in your chest.

“I did.” She pauses, eyes hard. “I’d do it again if I had too.” You lunge forward, claws out, and grab her armor. Your hand stings and it clicks that you must’ve slapped her when she turns her head back to meet yours, face to face.

“It was the best way to achieve my goals.“

Another slap this time but her eyes are still so very black and piercing. Empty.

“It wasn’t personal.”

You’re lips peel back into a snarl as you clench your fist.

“It was for me,” you hiss, stopping short of breaking her nose. “You used me.”

Slowly, Alex arches that same eyebrow.

“I’m not sorry.”

“I should kill you.”

Rage smolders in your chest as you uncurl your fist, fingertips tapering into deadly claws. She blinks, slow and sure, before a smile blooms across her features.

“Or you can get over it.”

You blink. She doesn’t.

“I should… get over it?”

“We’ve both had worse things happen to us,” Alex states. A fact and you can’t deny it’s not true. You step back, letting her go. “Or am I wrong?”

She pauses. The rage is gone and you’re left floundering.

“I used you. Get over it and get on with your life.”

“Shut up,“ you snap, lunging forward. Her throat is in your hand. Vulnerable. "Do you really want to die that badly?”

You squeeze.

“If you wanted to kill me you would have,” Alex hisses as her black eyes glitter in the dim light. “This is just posturing.”

“Willing to bet your life on that?” you growl out, leaning forward.

It’s stupid, but you do it anyway.

You kiss her, tasting blood and sweat on her chapped lips. Curious, you probe her lips with your tongue, asking for permission, as you loosen your grip and pull her closer instead. She lets you do both.

It’s something… new. You’re not really focused on turning it over in your mind, ready to dissect this new thing. So instead you deepen the kiss, lightly curling your fingers around her throat.

You won’t lie. You’re still annoyed. Hurt. Probably resentful, but this… this took guts. You can admire that. It won’t fix the past. You don’t think Alex meant for… all of this to make up for it. She doesn’t seem that desperate. Or stupid. An idiot? Sure. But you’re not sure why she did it. Maybe she doesn’t know herself. But it’s… something. Are you really taking her advice?

You don’t know, so you focus on something else. Something silly. Cheeky.

So you bite down on her lip.

“Shit!”

You smirk as Alex stumbles back. Huh. Feels nice to get one up on her for a change.

“Now we’re even.” You smile, deadly serious. “Don’t go into my head again.”

She straightens. Back to business. “Keep your end of the deal, and nothing will happen.”

“Don’t worry. This is our secret now,” you promise and then place a finger over your lips in a ‘shh’ motion before you blow Alex a kiss. You turn right around and sprint through the garage without waiting to see her reaction.

You don’t know for sure if you’re running away from her or from your own feelings on this whole thing. It’s hard to tell, so instead you keep running. It’s easier. You’ll sort this out later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ending up changing some of the dialogue here and there because it didn't quite sound right when I read it out loud. I decided to take another crack at Argent's reintroduction to Alex because this is where it happens. This was a lot of fun and I hope it was in-character.
> 
> I didn't want to give Alex too much leeway, at least any more than what is shown in the game, for what she's done because _she_ is a villain. A sympathetic one, but still a villain that's done wrong and I wanted to reflect that in Argent's thought process.
> 
> Granted, Argent herself didn't seem to be that hung up Alex's actions in my play through.
> 
> Next up is Dr. Mortum and I hope I don't mess it up.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!


	10. Nine for a Kiss

**Dr. Mortum**

It’s simply not possible. Statistically speaking, what you’ve uncovered is an anomaly in the pattern. Once the shock wore off, you couldn’t help yourself as you fell into the rabbit hole. What set this incident apart from all the rest? What had happened between then and now? Does she remember?

Based on the fact that Eden asked you to inquire about Shroud, it’s likely that she does not remember.

The proximity alarm beeps. Eden.

You stand up and meet her halfway, pulling her into a tight hug that lasts several seconds longer than what is socially acceptable for friends. The hug is not, however, too long for ones dealing with loss or trauma.

And what you’re about to show her is nothing less than traumatic.

Can you do this?

Yes, you can.

Should you do this? Debatable.

Pros: you’re keeping your word, it could yield the answers you’re looking for, and - morally speaking - this isn’t something you should keep buried as a friend.

Cons: there’s something going on here and her reaction could indicate one way or the other, it could lead to even more questions, or she might go to her boss for an explanation - start digging into things she shouldn’t.

The video begins.

Such a small thing, not even in color, but it sends ripples into the pound all the same. You’ve already seen it before, before Eden arrived, so you watch her instead. Not even a reaction. The gun enters the screen and her face changes, mirroring that same expression on the screen. A snarl, defiant till the bitter end.

The video ends as soon as it begins and Eden remains stock still, gaze locked onto the screen.

“Mon amie?”

She blinks, life flooding back into her dark brown eyes, and then turns to look at you with a frown on her face.

“I’m fine. Just…” She pauses, combs a hand through her hair, as her gaze flickers back to the screen. “Trying to make sense of this.”

“If you need a moment…”

“No, no. I’m fine,” Eden says. If you didn’t know her ticks by now, you’d believe her, but you don’t.

“Do you need a drink?”

“I’m fine,” she repeats and the cracks start to show in the smile she gives you. “This… is a lot.”

“It is.” You send her a nervous smile. “Do you mind if I get one?”

“Go ahead.” Eden’s smile is a fragile thing.

The two of you take a seat.

“What was that?” Eden asks. “What is she?”

“She’s a tactile telepath and energy drainer. That’s the basis for the rumors of her death touch,” you explain, rewinding the footage to focus on Shroud’s emaciated hand. “As far as I have been able to ascertain, she eats minds and what I very unscientifically have to call ‘life energy’.”

You let your annoyance tinge the latter half of your explanation and the smallest of grins makes itself known on her face.

“Mon Dieu, I’d like to study her…”

Eden pales and you mentally curse your slip.

“As far as my sources know, once she eats a mind she… retains it, along with the memories of her victims for quite some time.”

She says nothing and instead laces her fingers together as she sinks into the couch.

“How long?” You shrug. “Depends.”

“Stronger minds, especially boosts, take longer to… digest. She’s not only Lord Ember’s enforcer, but his interrogator as well. Her touch not only kills her victims, but it allows her to learn their secrets as well.”

“Go on,” Eden says and you’re the one who flinches. Her tone is monotone, perhaps bored. But you think ‘hard’ is a better descriptor.

“The bodies she leaves behind are brain dead. They… die within hours unless they are put on life support.”

Her gaze slides to the screen. “Brain dead.”

You nod before realizing she wouldn’t have seen your confirmation.

“Do you… want to talk about it?” you softly ask.

Prior to today, to this line of inquiry in fact, this was not something you had imagined was possible. Or even probable. It does not change the fact that it is indeed happening and so you let Eden take control.

It takes all of ten seconds before she shudders and then meets your gaze with her haunted brown eyes.

“Would you scroll forward first, please?” She hugs herself, turning back towards the screen. “To where she’s just finished… eating.”

“Of course, mon amie.”

“Can you zoom in on her arm? Right where the skinsuit ends?”

“What did you spot?” you eagerly ask.

“The tattoos peeking out.”

You see them. Geometric, almost like circuitry.

“What are you saying?”

“That’s Re-Gene tattoos.”

Surprised, you turn to look at Eden, but her gaze is still locked on the screen. “That’s quite impressive. To be able to discern that from such little skin exposed…”

Eden says nothing.

“That explains a lot,” you murmur as you sit back into your seat. “I wonder if Lord Ember knows he has an escape infiltrator unit at his court.”

“Or whether she’s there on a job.”

“For that long? She’s been working for him for… five years now, I think.”

“That’s quite a while,” Eden notes in a flat tone.

Silence lapses between the two of you, but you don’t dare to break it. Your curiosity is one thing, but Eden is your friend and you owe her this, at the least.

She blinks and then looks back up at you.

“I need to tell you something.” Eden pauses. “Would you listen until I’m done?”

“Of course, mon amie.” You frown. “Does it have anything to do with…?”

She hugs herself tighter.

“Sort of.” Eden looks away before making herself smaller, legs tucked underneath her chin, eyes watery, and hunched over. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Is this about your boss?” you ask. You still don’t know much about him other than that he’s some kind of a telepath.

“Yes.” She holds up her hand, straightening in her seat.

“There is no boss.” The woman gestures to herself. “There never was. I’m my own boss, sort of.”

“You’re not telepathically sensitive,” you counter. She wouldn’t have any use for the targeting web.

“Two bodies.” She holds up both hands for you to see. “One mind.” She joins them together.

The woman looks away.

“I’m a telepath. In my other body. A strong one.”

A bitter smile twists her face.

“I have… certain drawbacks in my own body.”

The smile stays there as she stares down at her hands. You don’t think she realizes that they’re shaking.

“I needed someone who could do what I can’t. Interact with the world. And this body was a blank slank. Thanks to…”

The woman trails off.

“Thanks to Shroud.”

A telepath. More powerful than most recorded telepaths out there. Who is it? You know that they have a habit of disappearing, but you don’t pry into how or why.

“This body was empty,” the woman admits as an expression contorts her face. Guilt? Pride? You don’t know and it disappears too soon for you to tell. “I could possess it.”

“Like a puppet.”

Have they controlled you before? You don’t know and that rankles. This isn’t like the Heartbreak Incident. The control is too fine. Honed in. Unlike Heartbreak, a spreading sphere of influence.

Perhaps this is the telepath responsible for Lady Argent’s rampage several months ago. The timeline fits together. Compared to a conscious mind, a brain dead coma patient would most likely be much easier to control. The date on the video was from two years ago. Have they been controlling this body for that long? Is that why they are able to display such fine motor control of a body? Or both?

The questions burn in your mind but the revelation stings even more.

“Yes.”

She meets your gaze and she doesn’t flinch.

“So who am I talking to right now?”

Her gaze skitters away before returning to meet yours.

“Someone who never expected this to feel real. This right.”

“Real?” you ask, furrowing your brows. “Didn’t you just tell me you weren’t? That this was all an… act?”

You gesture to the woman and ignore how the last word stings you more than her.

“Or did I misunderstand?”

“My feelings weren’t an act. We’re friends.” A grimace twists her face. “Were friends.”

“Keep going,” you instruct in a cold voice.

“I didn’t pretend anything. Except that this was my real body.” She turns away. “It’s just that having this body meant that I could… act on them. Dare to.”

“Dare to be friends? You’re going to have to explain things better than that.”

She flinches this time before turning back around. Gone is the resoluteness and all that’s left is something like misery.

“I don’t know what to say,” she murmurs. “I just wanted to be happy for a little while. Feel right. Feel human.”

“You’re not making any sense.” You’re tempted to stand up, to do something. “Use your words. You’ve already told me this much, what could be worse?”

You ignore the way your words break by the end.

“I didn’t think I was human,” she snaps, brown eyes blazing, challenging.

“You are going to have to explain that.”

The fire gutters out and she glances back at the screen again.

“I’m the same as Shroud.” She says, gaze locked onto the screen. “Re-gene. Infiltrator. Cuckoo.”

Your eyes widen.

“So your real body is…”

“Not real,” she finishes in a flat voice, but you catch the edge in it. “A vat grown slab of meat. There’s a reason I spend time looking like this. Human.”

“How… long have you been on the run?” you carefully ask.

“A few years… before Sidestep.”

“Merde,” you mutter as you rub the bridge of your nose.

“Now you know,” the woman says as she looks straight into you. “I can’t let them find me again.”

There’s desperation in her tone and finality. A threat?

“I understand that, mon amie, I just wish you would have trusted me a little sooner with this. For both our sakes.”

Her gaze sharpens and then flickers back to a cool assessment.

“You’ve got too many contacts to be trustworthy.” She pauses. And then shrugs. “Or so I kept telling myself.”

“And yet you’re telling me now. In spite of what has now happened,” you point out.

“I know.” She holds your gaze, eyes hardening. “If you want revenge, I’d rather you just shoot me than tip them off.”

“Do you honestly think I could hurt you? Hurt her?” you ask.

The woman looks away and you barely catch her next words.

“We’re one and the same. There’s no difference.”

“Easy for you to claim when this is the only you I’ve ever known.”

“I’m telling you now. I was afraid about what would happen. Earlier.”

“I can see why.”

“You deserve to know the truth.”

“Even if I could hang you?” you ask.

“I won’t let that happen.”

You hold your ground, but you’re the first to break away. “Okay. Merde. So, this is how we do it.”

“You can’t dictate the terms,” the woman whispers.

You can’t help it. You snap yourself up, spine straight, eyes meeting hers

“I can and I will. You can say ‘yes’ or ‘no’. I can’t make you say one or the other. It’s called ‘choice’, mon amie. Something you didn’t give me.”

For a moment, she has the decency to look away, apparently ashamed. Ashamed at what? Lying? Getting caught? Both? It’s hard to say.

“If what you say is true, leave this body here and come back in your real one.”

“And if I say no, will you let me leave?” she asks in a low voice.

“Yes.”

“And if I say yes? What happens then?”

“That depends on how our discussion goes,” you retort, giving her a sharp smile. “And don’t forget to bring my gun.”

Merde. You hadn’t meant to say that last bit, but you can’t fold now, so you pull your smile wider still and wait for her move.

She’s different now. From Eden. Or rather, the persona. There’s a dissonance there and it scratches at you in the worst way possible. A friendly face, but a stranger’s demeanor.

“Fine.”

“You’re agreeing?” The surprise is genuine and her face twists into a grimace before she turns to look at the couch you both had just been sitting on.

She opens her mouth and then closes it as a pained look flits across her features. Her features harden, but it’s not directed at you.

“I’m going to have to lie down,” she says, moving towards the couch.

“Have to?” you ask, following her.

“I doubt you’d catch me in your arms if I fall,” she mused.

“How long will this take?”

The woman shrugged before lying back against the couch. “The process is instantaneous. Getting here? Not so much. Give me a while. Two hours? Depending on traffic.”

She’s afraid. It’s not hard to tell.

“I won’t hurt you.”

Surprise flickers across her face before it settles into something like resignation.

“Words are cheap.”

Then she closes her eyes and goes still, leaving you to prepare. It’s nearly automatic and it’s easier. Moving, doing something. Compared to the waiting. It’s a shame you can’t scan for brain activity to verify if this woman was indeed the one from the video. It’s likely that… the body would still test as clinically brain dead, but…

That’s ignoring the biggest elephant in the room.

A telepath who can possess a person to such a fine degree and for extended periods of time. You’ve seen Eden, their puppet, perform tasks requiring fine motor control and you two have talked, sometimes for hours at a time, in your lab.

What would that mean for the body, the brain?

The brain is an organ, one of the most important ones in the body. But it is also a muscle. Like all muscles, the brain can experience a loss, to put it simply, in neurons if they aren’t used as frequently. But skills can be regained and muscle memory is a factor to consider.

All of it is pure conjecture and the fact that all of this is assuming that a brain did not experience death, especially one such as Shroud’s.

If the telepath is inhabiting the body, could they be jump starting the brain, consciousness, back from death? The neurons and the pathways are already there and could simply require ‘exercise’ or practice to regain cognitive functioning.

The proximity alarm beeps a warning and you settle yourself next to… the puppet. A woman steps into the lab, smartly dressed, and a briefcase at her side. You rise to your feet, ignoring your gun by her feet.

“Alex Branwen. That explains much.”

“Figured you must’ve guessed already,” Branwen retorts, arching an eyebrow at you. “The dampeners.”

You shrug.

“I had my suspicions, but… Eden’s boss was a telepath and so I prepared accordingly.”

“And now I’m here. You wanted answers?”

“I do,” you reply with a nod. “The first one: was it true? About what you are?”

Alex’s eyes darken.

“Yes.”

She rolls up her sleeve and the tattoos are too bright against her skin.

“Can… can I touch it? Touch you?”

Alex flexes her hand once before wordlessly offering her arm to you. Carefully, you step forward, examining the tattoos first and then the scars with a click of your tongue.

You’re ashamed to admit it, but you don’t notice her discomfort until you’re nearly done examining her arm.

“Thank you.”

She pulls her sleeves back down, takes in a breath, and then meets your sympathetic gaze.

Before she sharply turns away.

“I’m okay,” Alex mutters. “I’m used to it.”

Something pinches your heart as sympathy and resentment roil in your gut.

“You’re allowed to say no, you know,” you reply.

She meets your gaze and then looks away, fiddling with the cuff of her sleeve. “I didn’t.”

“Mon amie… I’m sorry.”

It slips out, but you both let it go.

“You believe me then,” she says, changing the topic.

“There was never any doubt.” You’ll let it go; she’s right, in a way. “Once I added up the clues.”

This time it’s your turn to give her a flat look, but to her credit, she doesn’t flinch.

“But it doesn’t change the fact that things have shifted.”

A grim smile spreads across her face.

“Or that I hurt you.”

“Even if you had good cause.”

The mask shatters and a snarl ripples across her features.

“Did I?” Alex challenges. “I could’ve done this months ago.”

“Or from the start,” you counter.

Her face shutters back into an expression of boredom, but her eyes glitter with something. Tears?

“You would have never trusted me,” she throws back, eyes hard and flat. “Or even worked with me.”

You can’t help but give a tiny dip of your head. “That is… probably a fair assessment.”

“And considering what you are, I can understand your caution around scientists.”

“Not what.” Your head snaps up. “Who.”

“Of course,” you say, looking away. Away from the fury in her eyes. “My apologies.”

Alex tsks and rubs her arm, face clouded with rage. You step back.

“This is why I never told anyone.”

“Not even Charge?” you ask, surprised. There were quite the rumors that Sidestep and the former Marshal were quite an item.

Shock flits across her features. Did she let that slip accidentally? Most likely.

“No,” she says with finality.

“How do you see that going?” she asks, silently prowling back and forth. “I’m escaped government property. She works for the government.”

The word ‘property’ is filled with venom and you can’t help but flinch even if it’s not directed at you.

“You’ve got a point.”

She swerves sharply back around. You reel back as she cants her head at you. The look is alien, predatory. It’s like a spotlight, exposing the flesh beneath your skin.

“Of course I do.”

She turns. You relax.

“I’ve analyzed this enough that I know all the risks involved.”

“You took one now,” you point out.

That breaks her stride. Slowly, she turns back around to face you, seeing the soft smile on your features. Black eyes flicker and she… crumbles by a fraction.

“I don’t want to lose you.”

The confession is heartfelt, soft, and unbelievably fragile.

You take a step back, shocked, heart rate speeding up.

Alex blinks and straightens as a grimace twists across her features.

“Not like that matters.”

You don’t miss it. What’s left unsaid. You hold all the power now. You could follow your instincts, leaving behind another dent in the foundation of the woman before you. Or…

“Look,” you say, fidgeting with your glasses. “I won’t lie. This… this is hard. And I need to think about it longer than a few hours.”

“Understandable.” The grimace is gone and the mask is back in place. Professional.

“But… I do believe you and I will keep your secret,” you promise.

“That’s all I can ask for.”

“Give me a week. I will… be in touch?”

Alex nods, slowly. “I can live with that.” She turns sideways, pointing to your briefcase. “Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t.”

Another nod this time. “I know you have problems focusing on more than one problem at a time.”

You nod in return, a hesitant smile crossing your features.

“Do you…” You glance back at the puppet. Eden. “Do you need a hand getting her back to the car?”

“That would be appreciated.”

The whole thing is fast, efficient, and Alex drives away without looking back, leaving you to ponder what’s next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope I nailed Dr. Mortum's character. I wanted to convey their thinking pattern, especially the tendency to go down the proverbial rabbit hole. Anyway, enjoy!


	11. Ten for a Bird, You Must Not Miss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reader beware you choose the scare! Spoilers for the Retribution demo!

**Hollow Ground**

A wry smile graces your face when Revenant steps into the room. In the dim lighting, it’s hard to make out the exact color of her eyes but she doesn’t flinch when she meets your gaze.

Good.

A beat.

And then she’s slinking forward, back straight, eyes forward; the dim multi-color lighting plays on the sleek suit she’s wearing and she comes to a stop at the foot of the coffee table. No ornaments on her person besides the white scars that dot her face and neck. With her hands tucked away in the pockets of her jacket, Revenant’s calculating gaze shifts between Nocturne and Jake, once, before settling back on you.

“We have a lot to talk about,” you say pleasantly, a smile on your face, and then you offer Revenant your hand.

A beat passes and then Revenant’s hand touches yours, callused and there’s a curious scar that seems to run across the palm of her hand.

“I have to say I was expecting a harsher welcome considering the circumstances,” Revenant remarks in a light tone, eyebrow arched in an unspoken question.

You chuckle.

“I’ve seen worse attempts at getting my attention, no hard feelings. You can trust me.”

Revenant’s mind feels like the first snow of winter, cold yet soft to the fingertips. The cool touch of a snake’s skin as it winds around your neck. You sense the icy cracks and points and crags in her mind and weave your blood red web around the serpent's throat and fangs.

A flicker of… something - confusion? surprise? It’s hard to tell [her face is like looking at an old photograph <strike>before you burned them all</strike>] - glimmers in her black eyes.

“Work with me,” you drawl, pulling the web tight, and then you release her hand. You turn to hide the grin that crosses your face before settling back into your seat, offering Revenant a pleasant smile instead.

Carefully, the thief takes a seat and settles in, legs long and loose, giving you a long measuring look.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

Pride flares like the end of a lit cigar in your chest and you continue, “I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt this once.”

“You’re new in town and nobody has shown you the ropes yet. Hitting my property was something I normally wouldn’t be inclined to forgive but…” you trail off, lifting the corner of your mouth.

If Revenant heard the venom dripping from your voice she doesn’t let it sting her.

“You showed yourself willing to talk, and having the metaphorical balls to walk in here after pissing in my face. I can respect that.”

“I prefer to face things head on, no use running.” Revenant’s voice is flat. As flat as her black eyes and you wonder if the emptiness you’re seeing is the expression of a dead woman walking or the blackness in a predator’s gaze.

You allow the other half of your mouth to complete your smile. You already have her trapped in your web and you start to wonder how you’ll set her against your enemies. A snake in the grass, but you won’t be feeling her fangs anytime soon.

If ever.

“I can respect that.” The nod is genuine this time. “We both know you wouldn’t get very far.”

A challenging eyebrow arches up. A cobra rearing up to flare its hood.

“I got away from the Rangers.” She pauses and the eyebrow settles back in its place. “Kicked their ass, in fact.”

“I know, and that intrigued me.” A grim smile spreads across your lips time and she meets it with one of her own. [ignore the wrongness of her smile; it’s almost like yours, distorted in a fun house mirror] “One of the reasons I brought you here in the first place.”

“Only took you nine months,” Revenant notes sardonically.

"Wanted to make sure you weren't just another mayfly, most villains doesn't last long. But your little stunt at the auction pushed the schedule up," you say, tone deceptively soft, raising your own eyebrow in return.

A twinge of unease echoes from Nocturne’s thread. So, it isn't just you then... 

"So you called me in for a talk." Revenant steeples her fingers together.

"And you were polite enough to answer and follow instructions. Not everybody does," you tease, giving the thief a wink.

"So, where does that leave us?"

"I meant what I said before. I want you to work with me," you assure, leaning backwards in your seat. Tightening the ropes that bind her to you.

"What… exactly does that mean?"

"Pay me a percentage. Don't hit my properties." A smile curls your lips, showing the barest hints of teeth. "Maybe do me a favor now and then. It's not that complicated."

She’s proven herself a talented thief and you know some nests that she could rob. To your disappointment, she’s shown herself to be just that. A thief. A shame but an opportunity. Your web lingers in her mind and you know you can pull her strings in the future. There’s no need to yank them right away, but with time perhaps she’ll be an assassin at your beck and call.

Maybe the former Marshall Charge might prove a good challenge? Revenant has already proven to handle the Rangers in a fight. Taking care of Charge should be quite easy in comparison. You know where she lives and -

“I’m sorry but no.”

You snap back to the present, eyes widening. Revenant’s smile is a cold blade inches from your eyes, black eyes glittering with a warning.

“I work alone. Not for anybody else.”

“Really?” you ask, a razor blade in your tone.

Nocturne’s shock reverberates across the thread and Jake’s thread is still with anticipation.

“You’re really turning me down?”

This shouldn’t be possible. Your web is - still - in her mind, but she doesn’t even twitch when you tug at the strings. The woman in front of you is not her servant, [Eden. that’s her name. pretty little thing] and you’re starting to wonder if this is truly Revenant.

Did she shed her skin or are you simply holding her tail as her fangs arch towards your neck? You touched her mind, but is it truly hers?

“I thought I made myself clear the first time,” Revenant murmurs, voice low and dangerous. A hiss of snow in the mountain pass, an omen for an avalanche that will swallow you whole.

“Interesting.”

You lean back, locking your hands together, as you stare at her across your knuckles. Your hand twitches. The pride is gone. Snuffed out like a cigar at the bottom of a whisky glass. Frustration and disbelief tangle in your mind. But one thought echoes like a gong in your head: who is she?

As soon as she walked through the door, the resemblance struck you like a plucked string and the eerie similarity tapped at the backdoor [<strike>little pig, little pig, let me come in</strike>].

Black eyes, black hair - longer but still as dark as spilled blood at night -, the angles of her face, the shape of her nose, the arch of her eyebrow, and the sly smile right before you tear someone’s throat out. You blink and a glass shard spears your mind, shattering when it hits the ground.

_(- different tanks, not filled with saltwater but amniotic fluid, trapped, the faces glaring at you covered with surgical masks, tapping the glass and you twitch, echoes amplified and you can't get out and do you even know what's out? Do you know anything?)_

_(Too loud. Everything echoes, their thoughts so loud, and none of them concerned with you. You. There is no you. Just a body. A potential. Nobody bothers to name the fish in the tank, that way you'd have to grieve when they started floating belly up.)_

**<Lies. You named them.>**

_(You named yourself.)_

** _^I got you.^_ **

_(Dragged back, pulled out, pushed behind. Protected. The ghost of a memory.)_

The web snaps, you feel this snake’s venom seep into your mind, and your head snaps back with it. [<strike>fuckfuckfuck. red strings, red thread, red web. what the fuck did she do?! something blue? it stings. poison. venom. Revenant. red and blue, blue and red. the taste of purple opens on your tongue like a flower</strike>] You can feel a headache spreading in time with the harsh beat of your pulse. Your vision swims and awareness crawls back like a broken and bloodied body.

“Fuck.”

[<strike>a spider scurrying into the corner of its web with missing legs. an eel retreating back to its burrow with nothing but a hint of blood staining the water. a snake without an eye. fuck. you lost</strike>]

“What was that?”

Even to your own ears, you sound like your underwater. What was that? What did she do?

“I need to go,” Revenant says.

You should feel vindicated that she looks as shaken as you feel, but you can’t help but wonder what she did.

“Show… her out,” you say. “Unmolested.”

“But boss?” Jake looks torn, unnerved.

You can feel them both, trapped in their own webs. A wave of relief hits you in the chest and you allow yourself to slump further into Nocturne’s grasp. So, it’s just Revenant that’s slipped her leash. Good. You allow yourself this moment of weakness; they won’t tell.

You’ll make sure of it.

Already, you’re pulling their threads, turning their focus on different things. You don’t need more than your own voice focused on Revenant right now.

“Just fucking obey me,” you growl, baring your teeth. You don’t want to think of how you look right now. A desperate animal. You try to straighten but can’t.

“Of course,” Jake mutters and approaches Revenant. “Follow me.”

A snake in the grass, indeed.

And you invited her into your den and she bit you.

Fuck.

Revenant staggers up and out of her seat, baring her back to you. You don’t know if you want to snap it in two or see it beneath your boot. Probably both. She looks over her shoulder, meeting your stare.

“This isn’t over,” she declares with iron in her tone and blood on her teeth, mouth twisted in a grimace. You wonder if yours is just as stained as hers are.

“It’s not,” you promise in a low voice.

With a final glance, Revenant turns and leaves. With Nocturne’s help, you settle in your seat and close your eyes.

Revenant may have opened Pandora’s Jar, but you’ll make sure to be the one who reaches the bottom first.

_Next time, Revenant._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally, I wanted to make the part where Sidestep gets pulled into a flashback from their time at the Farm to be color coded in blue and then have the ones - which I think are Hollow Ground's thoughts/memories? - be coded in red. But... that ended up too much of a hassle and I am not a coder by a long shot...
> 
> Anyone else getting some Low Chaos Corvo vibes from a Blue Step? No? Just me? Okay~ Coincidentally, Corvo is sometimes referred to as the #sad rat dad in the Dishonored fandom...


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